You Cannot Trust Goblin Men
by Jedi Librarian
Summary: When her twin sister's soul is lost within the Underground, Lizzie must come to terms with magic, a Goblin King, and those who would destroy the realm Below. Based upon Rossetti's poem, Goblin Market. First in series. Written in 2004.
1. Chapter 1

**You Cannot Trust Goblin Men**

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Chapter One: An Introduction of Sorts

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_...Lizzie most placid in her look,_

_Laura most like a leaping flame...._

-

The little apartment fairly shook beneath the wrathful pacing feet of an angry blonde. Hell hath no fury as a woman scorned, and so she strove to prove with her ranting into the phone. "The twisted, slimy, arrogant arse actually _said_ that to me!" She waved her free hand above her head in dramatic circles. "The scumbag had the nerve--!" She fairly roared with rage and slammed her balled fist against the wall, rattling the pictures hanging upon it.

Across town, with her earpiece in as she drove through the afternoon traffic, another blonde woman who looked strikingly like the first shook her head. "You're just gifted, Laura. You always manage to find the biggest jerks for boyfriends." Her smile was dry; she calmly changed lanes and slowed to a stop along the highway yet again. "Aren't you glad to be rid of him?"

"Yes!" snarled Laura, throwing herself into a large, cushy couch. "Sooo happy. Can't you hear the joy just oozing from my pores?" She paused, then groaned. "Where are you anyway? Lizzie, I need chocolate. Lots of it. Can you get me some?"

"No. You don't need chocolate." Lizzie now smiled genuinely and added, "Maybe you need to get away for the weekend. How about a camping trip? You always love going for a good Saturday hike, smelling like wood smoke, and climbing rocks like a spider."

Another thoughtful pause followed on Laura's end before she made her hesitant answer. "I don't like to go alone, though... Can you come?"

Lizzie winced. "It's not my thing." It didn't look as if it could be, either. While the sisters, and twins at that, shared a lot of physical characteristics they had very little else in common.

They'd recently turned twenty-eight, still both single, still both each other's best friends. Both sisters were blonde, stood at five-feet, two-inches in socks, and had greenish eyes. Each had a sprinkling of freckles across their noses, and both of them abhorred the spots. High cheekbones, thin lips, and pixie-noses formed their identical faces and similar expressions. They could each squeeze in to size two jeans, but felt much more comfortable in fours.

Laura Rossetti was younger by two whole hours, as she liked to rub in on their birthday. She'd clipped her bright blonde hair to a messy, chin-length cut and would as often spike it out as leave it down. She worked at a top-notch salon and day spa, rubbing elbows (literally) with the wealthiest women in the city. Her casual attire usually consisted of ripped, trendy jeans and peasant blouses with push-up bras, with big silver hoops in each ear and little diamond studs in the cartilage. Her music went from rock, to emo, to Celtic depending on her mood. She drove a mini-cooper, in black. As trendy as she looked and acted, she loved being out in the woods and wilds. Nothing made Laura happier than hiking boots, repelling gear, and mesquite repellent.

Lizzie Rossetti, _not _Elizabeth she must insist, acted years older than her sister. Her long blonde hair was most often up in a tight bun, or clipped to remain out of her face. She was a middle-school English teacher and dressed the part in sophisticated button-down blouses, slacks, and sensible dress shoes. She also wore reading glasses, though it was debatable whether or not she needed them. Everything about her seemed prudish and at times mousey or bookwormish. She preferred to be curled up in a chair reading rather than out clubbing or hiking with her crazy 'baby' sister. She drove a sensible dark-blue Honda Accord and had a perfect driving record. Lizzie hated mesquites, couldn't stand heights, and would take a mattress over a sleeping bag any day.

"So?" Laura asked, plaintively. "I'm your sister and you love me. Don't you?"

Now it was Lizzie's turn to groan. "Are you really going to pull that card on me? I've got papers to grade, and I'd like a relaxing weekend for once."

"It's not like I'll require much of you. Just keep me company and call an ambulance if I get attacked by a bear. Please? If you love me...you'll come with me," Laura wheedled in her most _pathetic-poor-me_ tone. "My love life is in shambles, so who better to get over it with than a loving sister?"

Knowing she would regret this decision, Lizzie rubbed her forehead. "Oh, all right. Get the gear packed up and we can leave as soon as I get home and change."

The girlish shriek of delight coming out of the earpiece made Lizzie yank the ear bud out and, despite herself, start to chuckle. She hung up and concentrated on making it through the traffic in one piece. _'What I do for that girl,'_ she thought with a roll of her eyes. _'She owes me.'_

_-_

_The Goblin Men_

_-_

_One had a cat's face,_

_One whisked a tail,_

_One tramped at a rat's pace,_

_One crawled like a snail,_

_One like a wombat prowled obtuse and furry,_

_One like a ratel tumbled hurry-scurry...._

_One parrot-voiced and jolly..._

_One whistled like a bird...._

_-_

Sitting in a darkened room with blackened marble floors was a man, with his leather boots upon a long table. There were others in this foreboding chamber with him, lolling back in their chairs and feeling intolerably bored.

One of them stood next to a great window, which stretched from the chamber floor high to the vaulted ceiling. He looked out over the landscape which had been transformed into a dull gray with the coming of large, black thunderheads. The hills rolled away beneath him until they met a vast sea. He sighed, crossing his arms and leaning his shoulder against the glass.

"Bored, Korvis?" the one with his boots upon the table asked. "Court life not exciting enough for you? I can hear your languishing sighs." He chuckled and swept his legs down. He stood and stretched, cat-like, and walked around the table.

"I think we are all a little...lethargic of late," another said from his own chair, idly tracing patterns on the oaken table. "Nothing happening at all. Ever. " Short. To the point. This was Geryon.

There were eight of them. All appeared young, all were dressed in finery, and all seemed far too handsome a group of men. None were mortal.

Korvis stood as one of the tallest, with jet black hair and deep gray eyes. His voice rasped, but not unpleasantly, and he wore a silver hoop in one ear. His clothing was of a blue so dark it could be black, he wore gloves, his eyes seemed to absorb light and all else. Cynical, cool, and disinterested were the words that best described him.

The one addressing him had a shocking head of orange hair, topaz-like eyes, and he wore a vest of gold. A sword hung on his hip and a diamond pendent about his throat hung loosely, shaped like an eye. This was Calais, a man whose arrogance and self-love was pronounced by every expression and smile.

Geryon, tracing patterns upon the table, had a shaved head. The black of his pupil seemed to have leaked into the rest of his eyes—there was no iris, no white, simply black orbs looking out on the world in a cold, frightful way. He wore unrelenting black: a leather jerkin, boots, breeches, gloves, and an absolute lack of emotion made him the embodiment of a black hole.

A fourth paced quietly across the room, in a loping sort of walk, with the oddity of a tail twitching behind him—a wolf-like tail. His hair was brown and looked a little wild while his eyes were topaz and calm. His expression was thoughtful, his mood indeterminate, his clothing more simplistic in style though elegant in cloth with a fur-lined neck. He was Doran.

Another idly spun a blade in his hands, his smallish eyes unpleasant until he smiled. Maur was his name. His finery was gray, his skin was pale, and there was little else of note about him.

The sixth was Ophion, and he was slightly wider than the others though none would dare call him portly. The seventh sat near him, and was his brother Oles. The eighth seemed completely removed from them all, sitting at the farthest end of the table and scribbling something on a sheet of paper. He was Aeson, the youngest among them...by several centuries. Generally he only fell in with this lot when there was nothing better for him to do.

Korvis regarded Calais without much interest. "Court is of little or no interest to me. You know that, cousin." He sighed again and looked out as lightning struck the earth. "Things have just been quiet of late."

"You sound as if you do not enjoy the peace," Calais taunted quietly, leaning against the window and looking out as well. "What say we end the monotony then? Have a little fun. Stir up a little trouble."

A few of the others perked up. "What kind of trouble?" Doran, the wolf-like one, asked quietly

"I have an idea," Calais said quietly. "The Underground is too quiet for us, as Korvis here has noted, so why not take a little foray out... Aboveground? Into the mortal realms." He smiled, cat-like, and looked to see Korvis's expression. "What say you to that, cousin?"

Korvis shot the other man an annoyed look. "Oh, very well. But what might we do there? We have our limits, you know."

"Yes, Calais," Maur said in a high-tenor. "Our limits, placed upon us by the Elder and Wiser of our noble race." He chuckled unpleasantly and narrowed his eyes. His political ties were questionable, at best. He often spoke of the council in a way none else would dare.

Calais shot a glare at Maur, as if in warning. Korvis saw this but rolled his eyes. Everyone who knew Calais knew he always had a discontented attitude towards the Elders, though he said much less about it then Maur. It was his way, it was his character. Korvis didn't much care. The political ambitions of others had little to do with _him_.

"Why not find ourselves a mortal to play with?" Calais asked quietly. "It is about the right time of year...early fall in the Above. This is the time they traditionally reserve for tales of Goblin and Fae Lore."

"Not many believe in that sort of thing now," Korvis pointed out, turning his attention back to the window. If this was the extent of his cousin's planned entertainment, Korvis had no interest in the matter.

"All the more reason to go Above. Give a few of them reason enough to believe again." Calais chuckled and ran a hand through his fiery orange hair. "We could bring one back here. Think of the amusement that would afford. Perhaps...perhaps we might even bargain with our immortal fruit. Bargaining with mortals is a permissible interaction decreed by the Elders." He frowned sourly at the mention of that hated council but shrugged elegantly and the expression was gone.

Aeson looked up from where he wrote and raised blonde eyebrows at the others. "Bargain for what? You must have a goal in mind."

For a moment, Calais pursed his lips in thought. The others, all but Korvis, now watched him and waited to see if this might be worth the effort after all. "Why not," he said at length, "bargain for a lock of hair, from a pretty young woman?"

To this a few blinked, surprised, and Korvis turned with a mildly annoyed grimace. Geryon, the bareheaded one, began to grin. "A lock of hair? Ah, but you know what _she_ would receive when we possess such a personal object."

"Our hospitality for a mortal evening," Calais said quietly. "Besides, it would be a treasure, freely given. You know what power lays in those sort of...trinkets."

Korvis looked wary. "A great deal of power, if fused with something more. Calais, you won't—"

"It's only a mortal," Ophion said, pushing his portly frame away from the table. "They all go to dust eventually. Come, I for one like this idea. Have you any particular place Aboveground in mind?"

Calais grinned when no one offered further objections and went to the table to begin laying out his 'amusing' little plan. They all listened, and having nothing better to do agreed upon it. Korvis, still slightly wary, agreed to go as well but only because the others did. He was not the oldest in their number but held a rank and age enough that they might respect his judgment should something go awry. With Calais, one could never be sure what to expect.

This time would be no different and no less dangerous than times past.

_-_

_Jareth_

_-_

_"...You should not peep at goblin men."_

_-_

Sitting on his ornate black throne, upon a raised dais, idly twirling a crystal was a king among goblins. He wore black boots, gray breeches, white shirt with lace at his throat, and black gloves. His hair was white-blonde and long, coming away from him in wind-blown wisps. His eyebrows were high, his eyes mismatched with one blue and the other green, and his very manner proud and overbearing.

This was Jareth of the Labrynthian Lands, a member of the Fae gentry, a Goblin Elder. For millennia he ruled his ever-changing, complex, dangerous lands with magic so powerful and a will so fierce that none dared oppose him. Feared and admired, this king was left often alone by those of his class and dreaded by his inferiors.

As an Elder of the Races, there were few who could be called his peers. Oberon of the Woods, Triton of the Seas, Morgul of the Mountains, Jupiter of the Skies, Gia of the Earth's Gardens, Medusa of the Far-Off Islands of Night, Rien the Dragon Queen. These were the only ones who he respected, though there were others of technically equal rank. His own kind, the Goblin and Fae breeds, hardly interested him enough to be considered. They were many in number, living within his lands and without them.

There was a reason his castle laid within the supposed weakest part of his kingdom, where the lowliest species of goblin-kind lived. The stupid, rank, and weak minions here kept others from wishing often to visit him. He did have a nicer estate a few leagues away, beside the sea. He was rarely there, except when he must convene a Council. At the moment, a few of the gentry were using the place as a winter getaway. After receiving leave from him to do so. Since he wasn't there, he didn't much care what they did so long as they left the sea palace in one piece.

He only wished they would leave _him_ in peace. Petty squabbles and the constant social-climbing of the courts only irritated him. He would much rather sit in solitude and contemplation, and he had that when he wished it here.

"My Lord! Your 'ighness! Dreadful, awful, 'orrible news!"

Well, most of the time.

Sighing, Jareth raised his eyes to look down the few steps where a bat-winged and mustached goblin (with a little 'g,' noting an inferior being to the higher Goblins, of which Jareth was one). "What is it now?" He couldn't remember this creature's name...there were too many to try to remember.

"We was in the woods Above, me an me party of five. We always watch the woods this time of year for missing children to take." He blinked rapidly, then sighed. "Weren't none today."

Jareth put a gloved hand to his face and gritted his teeth. "Spare me the details and tell me what news you bring, imbecile," he growled. In less than two minutes of conversation he could already feel his head ache.

"Oh, aye!" The goblin suddenly remembered himself and his wings nervously twitched. "There's your 'ighness's kind in the forests Above, 'ighness! A whole lot of them. Big Goblins." It was how the goblins referred to Goblins. They had no sense of how to capitalize the "G" in speech without titling as well.

While this was of some dim interest, Jareth only shook his head and came to his feet. "And why is this so horrible?" He walked down the dais and towards the door leading to a balcony. The winds were picking up; perhaps there was a storm to the east.

"Well...er...they aren't supposed to be there, are they?" The little goblin bit his lip with his fang-like teeth and shook his head. "They've never been there before. An' _so many_ of them!"

"How many?" Jareth asked, wondering if it was too much to hope this goblin could count. A lot of them couldn't.

"Eight...nine...or seven. Somethin' like that." The goblin scratched his head and screwed up his face as he thought. "They was dressed like Abovegrounders. I think they wanted trouble, 'ighness."

A crystal materialized in Jareth's hand and he decided, carelessly, to take a glimpse into the Aboveground and see why this minion became so startled by Goblins in the mortal realms. It was odd, but not unheard of. Probably just a youthful trip by lower-ranking gentry.

As the vision appeared in the crystal before him, he let the orb go and crossed his arms, watching the floating sphere expand until it showed him the full scene—life size.

It was night in the Aboveground where these Goblins were. He counted eight, sitting around a fire and laughing amongst themselves. They wore the unflattering clothing of the mortals and looked to be doing nothing more than enjoying time away from the Underground.

Shaking his head, Jareth waved a gloved hand and the crystal popped like a giant soap bubble...soaking the goblin standing beneath it in sticky purple goo. "Nothing to be concerned with." He turned to go back inside, but something made him pause. It was just a passing idea, but he spoke anyway. "Keep someone watching them so long as they tarry Above. Do not be discovered. When they depart, I want a report."

The bat-winged goblin nodded and saluted, even as purple suds ran down his now-drooping mustache. "Yes, 'ighness! At once!" He then 'blinked' out of existence, no-doubt going straight back Aboveground to carry out the task himself.

Dryly amused, Jareth resettled himself in his throne and put his focus back on the empty, gray void where it had been before. In this complete emptiness of thought, Jareth felt more relaxed than he did at any other time. Emptiness was his paradise, away from the never-ending immortal existence he lived. He didn't much care what went on around him, as long as he was left undisturbed.


	2. Chapter 2

_  
_**You Cannot Trust Goblin Men**

_-_

_**Chapter Two: Come Buy, Come Buy**_

_-_

_Sweet to tongue and sound to eye...._

_-_

Laura put her head out of the tent and listened closely to the night, then pulled it back in for a whispered conference with her sister. "I'm telling you, I hear music. It can only be a few sites over. Come and look with me!"

"What is it with you and music?" Lizzie asked, more than a little irritated. She had spent the day scrambling over rocks and tripping over roots trying to keep up with her outdoorsy sister. She had been bitten by mosquitoes, put up with gnats flying in her face, and was quite certain the sunscreen across her nose was faulty. They had only just crawled into the tent after eating a most unsatisfying meal of hot dogs--burnt on the outside and somehow still cold on the inside. "I hate camping." Lizzie pulled her sleeping bag over her head. "I _really_ hate camping."

"Oh, stop complaining and come with me! It's someone playing the guitar. You love guitar music!"

"It's probably some creepy hippie who lives in the woods and communes with bears," Lizzie said, only half joking. "It's not safe to wander around through campgrounds at night. You don't even have your pepper-spray with you. You always forget it."

"You're supposed to know I'll forget and bring it for me," Laura countered with a teasing poke and laugh. "Come on, Lizzie. Don't make me go alone."

Lizzie groaned, fully aware that she would give in. "You're impossible. I like you better when you're pestering a boyfriend and leaving me out of it." She kicked the sleeping bag down around her legs, very moodily, and found her shoes. "It's dark, it's late, and _you_ want to go out. Do you know what time it is?"

"Nope. Left my watch at home." Laura grinned and stepped out of the tent. "Think of it as an adventure!"

As a prudish middle-school teacher, Lizzie was hardly one to think much of adventure in general and less likely still to put herself in one. She huffed a little as she followed her twin, grabbing a flashlight, determined that Laura should know just how put out she was. "You pick the weirdest things to get excited about. Music in a campground..." Lizzie was hardly a night owl. She preferred to be in bed long before Laura even thought about sleep. She quit grumbling as her sister led the way through the night, across deserted campsites, deeper into the trees. There was a guitar, a lute, and male voices singing. "I'm not sure about this. What if they're drunk? We're almost defenseless." Lizzie put out a hand to stop her sister mid-stride. "And who plays the lute on a camping trip, anyway?"

Laura stumbled and sighed. "This is why you don't date. You won't take a chance." Laura stepped forward, ignoring Lizzie's hand, moving to the flickering light ahead.

"And it's why you date jerks," Lizzie said under her breath, hurrying to catch up.

The two emerged from the trees unexpectedly, finding themselves in the flickering light of a campfire. The music went on as if those at the fire hadn't noticed the two women crashing out of the bushes. There were eight men around the fire, all in their late twenties, all singing except for the man on the lute. They were all different in appearance, all strangely attractive. The song ended amidst their laughter.

Laura looked at her sister, smiling as if to say everything seemed just fine to her, and then took a step closer to the group. "Good evening, gentlemen!"

The laughter ended quickly as they all turned and looked at the sisters... and they didn't seem too surprised to see people there. One of the men stood at once, nearly leaping to his feet, but with the grace of a dancer. His hair was a flaming orange and his eyes oddly shaped. "Well, well. Good evening." He flashed a charming smile at them. "Am I seeing double or are there really two of you?"

Lizzie, stepping quickly up beside Laura, said cautiously, "Yes, there are. I'm Lizzie and this is Laura." Her protective instincts kicked in. She may only have been a tiny bit older than her twin, but she was the more responsible of the two.

Laura shot her sister a little glare and then cast her most dazzling smile towards the men at the fire. "We heard your music. We're only a few sites over."

"I'm sorry if we disturbed you, but glad you came to investigate." The orange-haired man bowed a little dramatically and with a big smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Cal." He was the guitarist of the group. He pointed to each man in turn as he introduced them. "This is Doran, Gery, Ophion, Maur, Oles, Ace, and Kory." The lute player was the last introduced, and possibly the one who looked the least interested in the newcomers, averting his eyes when he was introduced.

The sisters exchanged glances after hearing the strange names. Laura shrugged it off and offered Cal her hand.

"Please," the one introduced as Doran said, "come and sit." He stood, as did Gery, giving the women a long log to sit upon.

Laura gracefully strode through the circle--the log was on the opposite side from where they stood--and took her seat as if she felt completely at home. Lizzie gritted her teeth and stepped more gingerly around the group, instead of crossing through it, and settled herself next to her sister, her entire body rigid. She did not trust these men or this situation at all. Two women, alone and outnumbered in the wilderness, should hardly be in such a situation.

"What brings all of you out here this weekend?" Laura asked at once, tipping her head to the side and smiling most alluringly. She knew an opportunity when she saw one and eight beautiful men in one place, no competition in sight but her deadbeat sister, was about as good as it could get.

"Just wanted to get outside for a while, under the stars," Cal said, obviously the spokesman of the group. He picked up his guitar and strummed a chord. "We're just enjoying ourselves away from the real world." The others murmured agreement. "What about you two?"

"Same," Laura answered carelessly. "Just enjoying nature. Right, sis?" She elbowed Lizzie, who was still looking extremely displeased.

"Oh yes. Enjoying the mosquitoes, sunburn, and blisters from Mother Nature." She kept her eyes on the men, looking at each of them carefully. There was something very odd about them. She wished the firelight was brighter because some of the details of their faces were lost to her in the shadows.

Kory smirked a little and twirled his lute between his fingers. "That's about how I feel." He grinned at the two of them. "But when all your friends practically blackmail you into joining them...." He shrugged and leaned back against his tree trunk.

"That's the only way I could get Lizzie to come. Coercion." She winked at her sister and leaned forward, more than ready to flirt as she began making small talk. She asked them about the song they had been singing, about what they'd done that day. They were all very friendly and the others began talking once Laura became more animated. A few times she tried to draw her sister in but Lizzie remained quiet and gave monosyllabic answers only when it was required of her.

"She's a school teacher," was Laura's excuse for her. "Very proper and mannerly. She keeps me out of trouble, though." There was a general laugh amid the men but Lizzie distinctly saw Cal look at her askance.

The night went on, with Laura chatting eagerly and soon becoming very chummy with all the men. Lizzie remained quiet, watching them all, trying to keep her eyes open. She moved to sit on the ground with her back against the log, finding the position more comfortable. Cal kept looking at her and then away, perhaps a little impatiently. Kory seemed almost as disinterested as Lizzie, playing quietly on his lute, not being drawn in to the conversation. His was the most charming music, soft and lulling... Lizzie started to listen to it as her eyes flicked from one face around the fire to the other. It bothered her that she could read next to nothing from these men. As a school teacher, she had a great deal of practice with reading children's moods and thoughts simply by studying them. All these men were just...what? Almost lethargic, even as they laughed. Something didn't feel right and she just couldn't put her finger on it. Drugs, maybe?

But the music...the music was lovely.

Her eyes began to burn from the fire smoke and her lids became heavier as the evening wore on. The voices around her melted into one another, becoming a constant murmur. She yawned, really sleepy, and looked up to see Laura as animated as ever.

Perhaps her sister was perfectly safe here. The men seemed nice enough. Perhaps she should go back....

As if reading her thoughts, Cal suddenly turned to look at her. "Lizzie, I'm so sorry! You're falling asleep at the fire. If you'd like, one of us can help you back to your site...or you can borrow one of our sleeping bags." His offer was very polite and he sounded genuinely concerned.

"Oh, no, I'm fine," Lizzie answered, by now too exhausted to question his motives. She dimly realized she had grown tired very, very quickly...and that there was something that should still be bothering her. "Laura, aren't you tired?"

"Not at all," Laura answered chipperly. "Why don't you go back, Lizzie? I'll be fine. Won't I, guys?"

They all smiled and agreed with that, very pleased to be trusted by such a lady, making comments about being gentlemen and chivalry.

"Kory," Cal said, looking down at his guitar. "Why don't you help Lizzie back to their campsite? We'll make sure your sister is back before dawn." He winked in a friendly way at Laura and smiled warmly at Lizzie. "Maybe we can all go hiking together tomorrow."

Kory stood and crossed to Lizzie, extending his hand to help her up. Without meaning to, Lizzie took it and found herself hoisted easily to her feet. "I'll be right back," he told the others over his shoulder. He took Lizzie's flashlight from her and led the way out of their site, into the trees. "You're only a few sites away?"

"Right," Lizzie agreed, shaking her head a little in an attempt to wake herself up. Following just a step behind him, she didn't trip over any roots or knock her head into any branches. He picked his way easily through the woods, as if he knew them very well, or as if he could see in the semi-darkness. "Pretty close."

It seemed to take only moments for them to come out in her campsite. Kory handed her the flashlight and gave her a friendly smile. "Just give us a shout if you need anything. Good night, Lizzie." He backed into the trees, slowly disappearing from her bleary-eyed sight. She thought he said one last thing before he left. Maybe it was: "Pleasant dreams."

Lizzie shook her head again, then reached up to rub her eyes. It looked to her like he had vanished before he even hit the shadows. She was _really _tired. Without thinking too much about it, Lizzie unzipped her tent and stepped inside, then collapsed upon her bag. She barely had time to zip herself in before she fell asleep. The last thought she had was of Laura, sitting by that campfire, surrounded by eight very good looking men.

Then her dreams began....

***

_Backwards up the mossy glen_

_Turned and trooped the goblin men,_

_With their shrill repeated cry,_

_"Come buy, come buy."_

_When they reached where Laura was_

_They stood stock still upon the moss,_

_Leering at each other,_

_Brother with brother;_

_Signaling each other,_

_Brother with sly brother._

_..._

_The whisk-tailed merchant bade her taste_

_In tones as smooth as honey,_

_The cat-faced purr'd,_

_The rat-paced spoke a word_

_Of welcome, and the snail-paced even was heard;_

_One parrot-voiced and jolly_

_Cried "Pretty Goblin" still for "Pretty Polly";_

_One whistled like a bird._

***

Laura, left alone with the men, flirted prettily and laughed heartily at their jokes and stories. They were all very charming and quite fun. She was startled when Kory reappeared out of the woods, right beside her on the log. He was smiling a little more than he had been before. "Your sister is safe and sound."

"Oh good. Thanks for taking her back." Laura eyed this man carefully, wondering why he had been so quiet before only now to put himself directly next to her. He was just as attractive as the others, but he seemed just a shade darker in charm and in appearance. He also had an earring and wore all black. She had to admit, she rather liked the bad-boy image and he seemed to wear it comfortably.

"Why don't we play a game?" one of the men suddenly suggested, sitting up a little straighter. It was Gery who spoke, smiling slyly around at the others.

"What should we play?" Doran, the politest one, asked with only half an interest.

Cal, still the ring-leader, stood. "I know--let's play Market." The others seemed to think this was a good idea and Cal slipped into one of the tents.

"What's that?" Laura asked innocently. She loved party games, card games, board games, any sort of game. This was one she'd never heard of and was immediately interested in.

Kory seemed to have moved a little closer when he said, almost directly into her ear, "A child's game. It's a game of exchanges. You're only allowed to play with what you have with you, and you have to convince the person you're trading with that it's better than what he has."

"It sounds fun," she agreed, amicable enough. "But you all have your stuff in the tents."

"You can only trade what's on your person," Ace said cheerfully, his voice lilting with a charming accent. "None of us can leave where we're sitting."

"Except me," said Cal, coming out of the tent again with a bag. "We all have to start with something similar, so I went and got our food." He reached into the bag and took out a peach. "Pass the bag around, everyone takes something, and then we'll play."

The bag went around the circle; there were cherries, an apple, an orange, strawberries, grapes, a pear, and a pomegranate for all the men. Laura pulled out a green apple and made a face. "I think you all cheated. Who would want this? And what were you guys planning for? A fruit salad?"

"It's your job to make it sound like something we would want," Kory tells her, his eyes twinkling merrily. "You're not doing a very good job, asking a question like that."

Laura, now very relaxed and feeling competitive, stuck her tongue out at him. "Don't worry, by the time I'm done, everyone will want this delicious, and highly unique, fruit." The others cheered her on.

"We take turns now. I'll start." Cal began the game by looking at what everyone had in the way of fruit, but then decided what he really wanted was Gery's bandanna around his neck. The trading began with Cal asking for the bandanna and then quickly listing the values of the peach he held in his hand. Gery remained unconvinced and unsmiling.

"If he'd laughed at all," said Kory in Laura's ear, "he'd almost have to trade. It's part of the game. The more ridiculous the offer is the better."

"Cal's just not very funny then," Laura noted, shaking her head.

"Not at all," Kory agreed, and the two chuckled.

Gery's turn had him haggling with Ace, who soon couldn't help snickering as the stoic Gery dropped to one knee to proffer his fruit as the very nectar of the gods. Gery won and was able to trade again.

"The person with the most trades wins," Kory added. "We'll play until we're sick of it."

"Right." Laura was concentrating on the game, keeping track of who traded who for what. Kory was soon trying to trade with Oles and did a foul job of it, so Oles then attempted a trade with Laura. She never once cracked a smile and coldly repulsed his offer of an orange.

"My turn," she said breezily, after shooting Oles down completely. She looked around the circle and then next to her at Kory. He smiled charmingly at her. "I think I want that pomegranate you've been trying to foist off on everyone else. I offer you this lovely apple in return..."

"The green apple?" he asked, straight-faced. "The pomegranate was an ingredient to the ambrosia of Ancient Greece. Why would I trade that for an apple? I'd have to be insane." The others laughed and encouraged Laura.

She set her jaw. "Oh, perhaps you're right. It isn't the healthiest looking fruit, is it? Well then, what else do I have on my person you might like to own?" She abruptly stood and spun around. "My earrings? You seem to like things like that." She tapped the crescent moon hanging from one ear. "My shoe-laces...they glow in the dark, you know. Perfect for camping when you have to dig around in a dark tent."

Kory darted a glance at Cal and then smiled slightly. "I'll only take gold for the food of the gods."

The others hushed, but Laura was into the spirit of the game and didn't notice. "Hm. Gold. Don't think I have any of that." She tapped her chin thoughtfully. No one was calling her time as up and so she scrambled for a good solution. She was, after all, very competitive. "Oh, I know!" She reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out a little Swiss-Army knife.

"That's not gold," Kory said, though he grew more serious and his eyes were not wavering from hers.

"No, but my hair is. What about that for a trade? A lock of golden hair for the fruit of the gods. It sounds like a trade the Olympians themselves might make."

He didn't crack a smile, but she still won when he said, "It's a trade."

Laura flipped out the knife and held a lock of her hair, carefully cutting it where the shortened piece would fall nicely in her layers. She took out one of the random clips in her hair and fixed the severed strands together, handing them to Kory with a triumphant smirk. She accepted the pomegranate from him with a grin and settled on her log again. The game picked back up, no one else offering to trade with Laura, and some of the spirit seemed to have gone.

At last, Cal halted the game and then with a smile took a large bite out of his strawberry. The others around him began to peel and eat their own fruits, talking about the game. Using her knife, Laura cheerfully cut open her fruit and scooped out some of the delicious meat of it. She put it in her mouth, smiling delightedly. It seemed to be the most delicious fruit she had ever eaten...and so she helped herself to another from Cal's sack-a peach this time, and another, and another. Soon she enjoyed the food more than the company, and then time seemed to slip and fade....

***

_She clipped a precious golden lock,_

_She dropped a tear more rare than pearl,_

_Then sucked their fruit globes fair or red:_

_Sweeter than honey from the rock,_

_Stronger than man-rejoicing wine,_

_Clearer than water flowed that juice;_

_She never tasted such before,_

_..._

_She sucked and sucked and sucked the more_

_Fruits which that unknown orchard bore,_

_She sucked until her lips were sore;_

_Then flung the emptied rinds away,_

_But gathered up one kernel stone,_

_And knew not was it night or day_

_As she turned home alone._

***

Lizzie awoke from her strange dreams, trying to remember exactly where she was and why her back was stiff._ 'Oh yes,'_ she thought when she saw the bright yellow ceiling of the tent. _'I'm camping. Sleeping on the ground. Lovely.'_ She sat up and rubbed her eyes, then stretched her arms above her head. She looked over to the other side of the tent and saw her sister sleeping soundly.

Having no idea what time her sister finally made it to bed, Lizzie decided not to wake her but just to get breakfast going. They always had camper's casserole on their weekend jaunts, packed and stored in a cooler. All Lizzie had to do was take the foil-wrapped breakfasts and shove them in the ashes of the fire for about half an hour. It certainly made camping a lot easier.

As she added wood to the pit where only charcoal now burned, she had the strangest feeling. It was like the feeling one had when they were late for something, like a meeting or an interview. It made her stomached knot up and her brows draw down in a frown._ 'I feel anxious,'_ she realized, _'but why...?' _She could not remember what would make her feel that way. It was a Sunday morning and she was expected nowhere, late for nothing, with nothing to do.

But something was wrong. It would come to her, she decided, and she went about the task of building up the fire, humming to herself. The fire was nearly roaring, breaking the chill of the fall morning, when a loud groan came from the sisters' tent. Lizzie sighed and shook her head. "Come out here and get breakfast!" she called to her twin, "It's just about ready."

Another groan was the only response.

"Seriously, Laura, when you're out so late how do you expect to enjoy a day hike?" she asked accusingly, and then caught herself. _'Laura was out late. She was out with...with...'_

"Those guys..." Laura half moaned as she came out of the tent, rubbing at her eyes and yawning deeply. "Those guys were amazing. I wish you could have stayed, Liz. It was so much fun! After you left, we played a game, and sang some more, and ate the most wonderful fruit." At the mention of the fruit her eyes suddenly widened. "I wonder if they'll have any more, for breakfast?"

"Who cares. It's their breakfast. Ours is done." Lizzie used tongs to pull the foiled breakfast out for her sister, dropping it on to an environment-friendly plate. "Eat up!"

Laura unwrapped the food gingerly and sniffed the eggs, sausage, and toast cooked by the fire. Her entire face, upon smelling the food, suddenly twisted into an expression of revulsion and she dropped it--right in to the fire. "Ugh, no. That smells terrible!"

Shocked, Lizzie used the tongues to grab the food before it became charred. "I'm sorry - maybe the eggs were bad. Or the meat." She sniffed at it herself and then looked up at her sister. "Laura, it smells fine! Here, taste some. It might be your imagination."

But Laura backed away from the food, looking no less revolted, and shook her head. "No thanks. I think I'd rather just go get some fruit from our neighbors."

A little offended, and still grumpy from the late-night escapade, Lizzie put the slightly crispy food on her own plate and sat on a camping chair to eat it. "Fine then, go ask your new boyfriends. Maybe they'll take you hiking too and I can be left out of it for once." She hunkered down in the chair and ate the food, glaring at the fire.

Laura rolled her eyes but did not say a word before walking off their site and towards the campground of the men. She tromped through the bushes and hummed a song to herself, one she could not remember hearing before, and licked her lips as she thought of the delicious fruit the men had given her the night before. She had mostly forgotten the game, except to remember her prize had been the most delicious pomegranate she had ever tasted. She could remember how sweet it was, how the juice had felt upon her lips, the flesh of the fruit upon her tongue, and her mouth watered. It was not only a matter of wanting the fruit for breakfast, she realized. She _needed _it. Nothing else would do. Simply nothing!

She came out upon the campsite where both twins had stumbled out the night before, and she stood still in shock for some moments before she realized why the scene before her was so horrible.

They were gone. Tents, cooking pots, men, fruit and all. There was no sign that they had ever even been there, except for ashes in a fire pit and the long logs gathered where the men had sat. It was only because of the logs and their arrangement that Laura was able to recognize the place. Without the logs, she would have sworn it was the wrong campsite, so sure she had been that she would find them.

Her heart sank and her stomached growled angrily at her. Hardly thinking sensibly, hardly thinking _at all_, Laura began to comb the site for some sign of the delicious fruit left over. She looked, and looked, and looked. She found nothing. Dirt, rocks, leaves, ashes, but no fruit. None of that delicious, amazing, tantalizing fruit of the gods.... She became more frantic in her searching, rolling the logs around, kicking at the ashes, and digging through the bushes. Without realizing it, she had begun to cry. Tears streamed from her eyes, she felt her heart breaking, and she began to mumble to herself that this was all wrong, that they _should _be here. Laura did not feel angry or wronged that they left, only sorrowful beyond anything she had ever felt before - not even a failed relationship could make her feel this miserable. The pain in her heart began to sear and burn and she somehow knew it would soon cause her agony if she _did not find that fruit._

Laura was moving bushes aside, her head close to the ground, when she heard her sister's voice behind her. "Laura? What are you doing? Where did they go?"

When Laura turned around, her sister turned white. "Lizzie," she moaned, her silent tears now becoming sobs, "they're gone! They're gone and they've taken the fruit!"

Never in her life, even at the side of her own parents' grave, had Lizzie seen her sister such a mess or so hopelessly lost. There was no other word for the look in Laura's eyes. "Laura," she said calmly, reaching out to hug her sister, though she hardly knew the reason behind such a display of emotion. "Shh, it's all right. They just lied about sticking around today, that's all. And if you really want the fruit, we can go get some. Right now."

"Yes," Laura said suddenly, pulling away and looking at her sister with a frenzied smile. "Yes, of course! Let's leave, right now. We can go get our own fruit." She bolted away, back towards their camp, leaving her sister staring after her with fear. With no idea what was happening, Lizzie could only help her sister take down camp quickly and messily, then climb in the car and head for the closest town and grocery store. Laura hardly said another word, but hummed a strange song that prickled at Lizzie's memory.

"That song," Lizzie said, looking at her sister sideways, "where did you hear it?"

Without hesitation, Laura said, "We both heard it. Last night. They were singing it."

Frightened at her sister's strange behavior, worried that something more than a fruit craving was going on, Lizzie sped quickly to the nearest grocery store. It was all she could do to keep up with Laura when they stopped and the near-rabid woman leapt from the car and ran in to the store. Lizzie followed her, panting when Laura stopped at a display of peaches and pomegranates. Without even stopping, or looking to see if anyone was watching, Laura lifted a peach to her mouth and bit in to it. The ripe fruit burst in her mouth, the juice ran across her lips, and she threw it as hard as she could away from herself. "No!" she near-shouted, angry and desperate. To her, it has tasted like sawdust. She took up a pomegranate and her knife.

"Laura!" Lizzie said, shocked, looking up to see who had seen the odd display. A little gray-haired woman stared at them with wide eyes. Lizzie shook her head and reached for her sister's hand.

"No," Laura snarled, pulling away and viciously tearing open the fruit. She put her teeth in to it at once, taking a huge bite, only to thrust it away from her with the same disgust. "No, no! It must be _their _fruit. It must be!" She looked around desperately, as if hoping to see the eight men from the night before.

"Laura," the elder twin tried again, reaching out to grasp her sister firmly by the shoulder. "Laura, those men are gone. They left. They aren't coming back and we don't know how to find them. You'll just need to---"

But she was cut off by a sudden wail from her sister and Laura crashed into her arms and shook with great heaving sobs. "I'll die without it," she gasped, "I'll _die_!"

And though this was ridiculous, and would be melodramatic in most cases, the words of her twin chilled Lizzie to the bone. "Come on," she finally said, ignoring the old woman and the grocery boy who had come to investigate. "We need to get you home. And to a doctor." Lizzie did not know what else to do, but if her sister had been drugged, or hurt in some other way, a doctor would know and could help. She hoped.


	3. Chapter 3

**You Cannot Trust Goblin Men**

_Chapter Three: ...Turned Cold as Stone_

_-_

_"Dear, you should not stay so late,_

_Twilight is not good for maidens;_

_Should not loiter in the glen_

_In the haunts of goblin men._

-

_Goblin King:_

Jareth massaged his forehead and repeated back to the little mustached goblin, just to make sure he understood what was being said to him, "You watched the Goblins all night in the wood. They were joined by two girls who appeared to be identical. One left, one stayed. The one who stayed ate fruit with the Goblins. They sang songs. She went away. They all disappeared back to the Underground. Is that it?"

The creature blinked and then nodded. "Yes, 'ighness. That's it. But you said it much better'n I did."

"Because it did not take me a quarter of an hour to say it," Jareth hissed through clenched teeth. "What do I care," he said, rising from his thrown and stalking towards the spy, "what Goblins do with a mortal girl? So they had her to a tea party. So what?" He pulled back his booted foot and aimed a good, hard kick at the minion, sending the bat-wings crashing into a wall. "You are a complete idiot and a waste of air," Jareth snapped at him. "Unless you have anything to say in your defense, you had better run; I feel the need to send someone to the Bog today and you are the candidate of the moment."

The goblin, not hurt at all but shaken, hurried to his feet and scampered and stumbled to the exit. When the Bog was mentioned, even the stupidest goblins got moving. He disappeared through a crack in the door and Jareth's shoulders slumped in relief. He turned and strode back to his throne.

"Er, 'ighness?" the voice of the mustached goblin came again, from the crack in the door. Jareth paused mid-stride and felt his irritation with the creature rising. He did not speak. If he did, it would be to damn the creature to the Bog. "There was one more thing - I near forgot. One of the Big Goblins took some of the girl's hair. The girl 'o stayed."

All the irritation fled. "What?" Jareth turned on his heel and looked at the goblin with honest surprise on his face. The goblin cowered but dared not to move under the King's stare. "_What_did you say?" Jareth did not move and did not breathe as he waited for the answer.

"The-the girl actually gave it to 'im," the goblin clarified, trembling all over his small body to the very tips of his mustache and wings. "She gave it to 'im, and then 'e gave 'er the fruit." He suddenly dropped to his knees and covered his eyes, expecting a blow to the head or worse for coming back into the King's presence.

The goblin gasped when he felt himself being lifted up by the scruff of his neck, the gloved hand of the King holding him up to eye-level. Goblin King faced lower goblin and said, very quietly, "What is your name?"

Awed and unsure, having never known the King to ask such a question of a goblin, he answered, "Neflin," and forgot to say "'ighness." He continued to tremble.

"Well now, Neflin, suppose we go and find this girl you speak of," Jareth said softly. "Right...now." And they disappeared from the throne room in a shower of sparks and purple light.

_-_

_Aboveground:_

Lizzie sat with her face in her hands, still wearing her grubby camping jeans and hiking boots. After getting Laura back in the car, her sister had gone silent. Lizzie could not get her to speak a word - all she would do was hum the song of those awful men. It did not matter if Lizzie shouted or begged, cried, or grew silent. Laura seemed to be hypnotized and did not say a single word. It took two hours to get back to the city and get to the emergency room. It took only a few moments for Lizzie to say, "I think my sister's been drugged - maybe raped" and the nurse to shout orders and get Laura admitted. It took years, or so it seemed, for her to answer all of their questions. Where had they been? What was their relationship exactly? Age? Blood-type? Identities of the men? Location? Allergies Laura may have? The list went on and on, and then the police came and asked nearly all the same questions again.

Finally, a doctor appeared in the chair beside her. "We are running tests," he said softly, "but it is difficult to know how to help her without knowing what she was given. And..." He hesitated long enough for Lizzie to look up at him. "I have never seen symptoms like this, even in the most advanced cases of drug usage and overdose. It could be something new. Did she tell you anything, anything at all about what she ate or drank?"

Lizzie chuckled and it was a surprisingly dark sound. "I already told you. You and everyone else. She just kept talking about their fruit. And that's all she wants now. It's like she's a heroin addict after only one shot." She sighed and sat back. "I'm a teacher, Doctor. I teach kids from troubled homes, kids who already know how to make their own methane. I know about drugs and I know my sister. She would never take anything knowingly, and I don't have any idea what she's been given that would do this to her."

The doctor nodded and stood slowly. "We have sedated her with the most harmless medication we have. You may see her." He walked away, looking at his clipboard and shaking his head.

Licking her dry lips and pushing her bangs back behind her ears, Lizzie stood and walked down the hall where they had taken her sister. Laura's name was already on the door. Lizzie walked in and stood beside her pale, lifeless sister. Laura's eyes were vacant, she stared at the ceiling, but at least she wasn't humming anymore.

Lizzie sat down beside her, reaching out to stroke her sister's hair. "Hey," she said softly. "I hope you can hear me, Laura, because I want to tell you something: we are _never_going camping again." She smiled dryly, her eyes became moist. Never had she seen Laura, the independent and strong-willed sister, so still and helpless. "_Never_." She took Laura's hand gently and held it, mindful of the needle in her wrist. "Laura," she said, "I love you, okay? And I really want you to feel better. I need you to feel better. You're my twin; my other half. You're really scaring me, you know. Doing this. I wish you'd snap out of it." She shook her head. "If wishes were miracles, right? That's what Mom used to say. 'If wishes were miracles, you girls would walk on water.'" She laid her head on her sister's bed and stared at her, feeling horribly alone. "Well, I wish Mom was here to say it. Maybe she would know what to do with you."

But Lizzie knew that if the hospital and the police were clueless, even her wonderful angel mother would not know what to do.

_-_

_The Underground:_

Korvis stood alone with his cousin, in the dark realms of the Duke Merihem, father of Calais. They were in Calais's private study, situated in a tower of the family keep. Calais stood at a table covered over in books and a single lead plate, whereupon rested a golden curl.

"What do you intend to do, Calais?" Korvis asked, trying to maintain a calm facade and disinterested air. "I should like to know, since it is I who took the token from the lady."

"She gave it to you," Calais corrected absently, comparing one text with another. "There is an essential difference in those two actions. A maiden's token, given freely, holds considerably more power than if it had been forced from her."

"Yes, yes," Korvis responded, a taint of impatience in his tone. "But you know what I mean. You still have not told me, or the others, what you are planning."

"You sound nervous."

"Perhaps I am. My name is tied to yours in this. _I_ was given the lock of gold."

"And you in turn gave it to me, so relax. Your precious name will not be connected to what I plan if you do not wish it. But I warn you, cousin." Calais looked up and his eyes flashed yellow. "If you will not help me, you will stay out of my way. I have been planning this too long now."

Korvis turned and walked away from his cousin, biting back his irritation. "Tell me," he commanding, the rasp in his voice worse than usual, "why we condemned the mortal to death. Her blood is on my hands, even if the token is not in my name."

Calias chuckled, his humor dark and wicked. "You grow soft if you care what happens to a single mortal." He raised his eyebrows and turned to regard the stiff set of his cousin's shoulders. "What is it in you that would question me? You never used to."

"Your games used to be harmless," the other answered evenly. "Pranks. Small jests. But you have been growing more and more..._ambitious_of late."

"Of course." Calais closed another book and flew through the pages of the largest volume. "We are immortal, Korvis. We live forever as we are - I the son of a duke, half Goblin and half Daemon. You, full Goblin-Fae. We have little to look forward to, as our superiors are immortal as well. We should spend the eternities in our same position, living as secondary nobles, unless we do something to make our lives count for more." He suddenly tore a page out of the book he looked through, causing his cousin to wince. "I was not meant for a stagnant life. I am weary of my inferior position."

The fire-haired immortal folded the paper in his hands and tucked it into his vest. He lifted the plate of gold hair and walked towards the door. "I intend to garner more power from our dear little mortal's sacrifice. This hair, gold and given of her own free will, will be part of my talisman of power." He went to the door and paused just before stepping through it. "Korvis, because we share our mothers' blood, I warn you again to keep away from this, for your own safety. Perhaps go away for a time. The Underground is soon to change, and I am afraid there will be casualties." He sighed on the last line, as though regretting his words, but then flashed a smile over his shoulder and disappeared down the stair.

Korvis waited only a moment then went to the book from which the page had been torn. It was an ancient spell book, with a language he did not recognize, and the cover was blackened with age. He closed the book and took it with him as he vanished in a cloud of swirling violet.

-

Lizzie sat in her apartment, curled upon her couch, staring blankly at the wall. She left the hospital to shower and change clothing. Laura was still nonresponsive, her eyes glassy, when the elder twin left. She let herself have a good cry in the shower and now she only sat to gather energy again before going back.

She wanted to be there for her sister, even if she could do nothing more than hold the limp hand and speak softly to Laura. Perhaps Laura could hear her voice, like comatose patients. Perhaps.... She shrugged off the thoughts and grabbed her car keys. She needed to be back at the hospital.

There were too many variables, too many "maybes" in this circumstance. All Lizzie knew for sure was that she would do anything to help her sister, absolutely _anything_. And if she ever came across even one of those men again.... As she entertained that thought, her mind was hardly the appropriate place for an eighth grade school teacher.

-

Jareth stood next to the hospital bed of a pale blonde woman, carefully examining the look in her eyes and the aura about her. It was easy for him, an expert in deep and ancient magicks, to understand what was happening while the mortals remained clueless. When he looked at her blank eyes, he could see that they were indeed watching something, something that only she could see within her own mind. The woman had withdrawn into herself under the onslaught of dark and desperate magic.

Only a very spirited mortal would be able to hold out in this manner, especially while her soul was being sucked slowly away. Jareth could see the tiny wisps of her spirit drifting away from her body and vanishing through a small hole in the mortal "reality" into the immortal realms. Her life force, obviously, was being siphoned through the use of a talisman or token - the hair she had given away - for some purpose.

It was all very complicated and Jareth was solely focused on studying the woman's unconscious mind. He knew well enough which Goblins she had been keeping company with, but he did not know which she had given the lock of her hair to - Neflin could not remember enough detail to aid him.

The goblin, nervously twitching his wings, stood next to the King as quietly as he could. He did not know why Jareth brought him to the Aboveground. Quite frankly, Neflin did not like being among humans. He thought they smelled funny and were very rude. They also seemed far too ignorant about the world and powers surrounding them. He preferred being in the Underground with his own kind, especially in the Labyrinth. There was always so much to see and do and talk about there. He sighed and then winced, worried that the sound would disturb the King. The King warned him of what would happen if he made a single noise.

Neflin glanced up at Jareth and saw the King was still focused on the young woman; the goblin relaxed and smiled to himself, then glanced around again, taking in the pristine condition of the hospital room. He found the smell nearly nauseating, but the contraptions were interesting. There was a small black box with a green line that blipped and beeped, and another box that hummed - though it was quite a boring song of only one or two notes. The bed was shiny and metal. The floors were cold. The door was a pleasing shade of gray and standing in the doorway--

The tiny beast held his breath as he recognized the second woman from his Aboveground spying venture. "Yer 'ighness," he whispered, daring to reach and tug on the tail of Jareth's coat. "'Ighness!"

Jareth snorted and looked away from the girl to the goblin. "_What_, Niffler?"

The goblin didn't correct him but gasped out, "The _other_one, she's _here_!"

Shaking his head, Jareth nearly kicked the goblin in disgust. "I know that, idiot," he replied coolly. He looked up, across the room to where Lizzie stood in absolute shock. "Well?" he challenged her. "Are you just going to stand there or will you say what it is you are thinking?" His aristocratic accent made each word sound mocking.

Lizzie, having come through the door before realizing a stranger stood in the dark, over her sister's bed, found herself unable to move. His very presence awed her in a way she could not describe. She knew she was standing before a man with more power in his grasp than anyone she had ever met or dreamed of meeting. Though it was dark, she could see his outline against the window - flyaway hair, high-collared coat, narrow frame. The voices she heard speak, one raspy and ridiculous coming from the floor somewhere, the other cultured and controlled coming from the man, did not even bring her back to herself. It was not until the man addressed her directly that she could respond.

"Who are you?" she asked, her hands curling slowly in to fists. "You're not a doctor." That much was obvious. Doctors may have god complexes, but they did not have the air of a god when they stood in a room with you.

"I, my dear, am a Goblin King," he said easily, stepping around the bed and towards her. "Nothing more. Nothing less. But that means nothing to you, does it?" He raised his hand and an orb appeared, glowing softly with white light. "You see?" He smiled at her, baring pointed teeth.

His eyes did not match in color and were smug, his smile was cruel and treacherous, his hair gleamed both silver and gold, the tips of his ears were pointed and peeping from between spikes of hair, and his skin was very pale. He was coldly attractive, and probably the only truly "beautiful" man Lizzie had ever seen. But, as soon as she registered this fact, something clicked in her mind.

"You're one of them!" she accused, more shocked than frightened, and then quickly angry. "You're one of those - those men! You look just like them! The men who hurt Laura." She took a step towards him, offensively, rather than a step back. This move amused him enough to cause his cruel smile to widen. "What did they do to her? Tell me!" she demanded, looking from him to her sister. "And what are you doing here? To her?"

Jareth chuckled. "You are very astute for a mortal woman." He rolled the crystal from one palm to the other, and then stepped aside to give her a clear view of Laura's form. "I have not touched your sister, though as you have said, those of my kind have certainly done something to her."

Lizzie hurried to Laura's prone side, avoiding coming too close to Jareth the proclaimed Goblin King. She scanned her sister's body and the monitors on the wall, assuring herself that nothing had changed since she left. To her relief, and almost equal disappointment, Laura remained the same in her strange, trance-like state. The elder twin whirled around again. "What are you doing here?" she repeated, this time true menace in her voice. "Come to finish her off?" she accused, her hands clenched into fists again. "You come one step towards her and I'll scream and fight until I wake the whole building!"

To this the Goblin King made no answer, as now his eyes watched his crystal spin in his palm. "Your dedication to her well being is commendable, but a sad waste of energy in this circumstance. You see, I am not your enemy. Not this time, little mortal." He rolled the crystal over the back of his wrist and in to his palm again, then sighed. "In fact, I may be your ally."

"I don't understand," Lizzie responded slowly, not dropping her defensive stance. "And I still don't know who you are."

As if bored with the conversation, Jareth fell back languidly into the single guest chair sitting against the wall, facing the twin sisters. "I told you, I am Jareth, King of the Goblins, Greater and lesser. Lord of the Labyrinth, Master of the Gray Sea, Duke of the Northern Lands. All different titles for the same thing: me. I am an immortal, a Fae if you will, living in a realm that at times overlaps your own." He looked up from his crystal and towards her. "You do not look like the type to believe in fairy tales, my dear, but I think you had better start."

Though reason and logic cried out at this mockery of an explanation, belief hushed them. Lizzie knew, upon first walking in on this man, that he was not someone to be trifled with. The power she felt was still present and he was obviously its source. "Okay. Let's say I believe you. So what. A fairy king--"

An indignant voice from near the floor interrupted, "_Goblin_King."

She jumped and looked down, having forgotten the raspy sound until that moment. All she saw was a small foot disappearing under her sister's bed as the owner of the voice dove beneath it for cover.

"Pay him no heed," Jareth said, again sounding bored. "They do not like being seen Aboveground, but he is relatively harmless." Jareth watched her with his unnerving, mis-matched eyes. "Now, as you were saying, you are going to _pretend_to believe in me. That is fine. It always begins as pretend." He chuckled dryly and shrugged one shoulder up indolently.

Lizzie, keeping her eyes on him, slowly sat back on her sister's bed. She was exhausted, after all, and she had the feeling their conversation could continue for quite a while. She was grateful she had at least taken a shower, so she felt more awake. "Yes." She cleared her throat. "Why would a Goblin King come visit my sister in the hospital after - after men just like you drugged her?"

"Because," Jareth said, his eyes boring in to hers with sudden intensity, "they took something from her, something willingly given, back to my own world. Because when a foolish mortal, like your lovely sister there, plays at bartering with immortals all things can turn to chaos. My dear, have you heard the story of Paris of Troy, playing an exchange game with goddesses?"

"Of course," she said slowly, not understanding. "He declared Venus the winner of a beauty contest and she gave him Helen, beginning the Trojan War. It's an old myth."

"It is an old piece of history, a time when my world collided on a regular basis with yours," Jareth corrected smugly. "Paris did more than declare Venus winner of a beauty contest. He exchanged favors with her. He gave her the favor of helping her defeat Artimas and Juno. He helped her deal a blow to other immortals. In so doing, he cursed himself without knowing it and Venus gained power in the Immortal Worlds. Something similar is happening now, to your sister."

"You mean, those men were gods...?" Lizzie asked skeptically.

Jareth twitched a booted foot with some impatience. "No. They were Goblin Lords. Immortals. Powerful. And they gave your sister a piece of fruit but only after she had bargained for it with a piece of herself. She thought, quite foolishly, that she only gave away a lock of hair. In reality, she gave away a piece of her soul." Jareth stood, suddenly agitated, and crossed to Lizzie in two strides. "And fractured souls are not content to remain so. The rest of her will is now focused on rejoining the two. But there is one problem here, my dear. Do you think you can tell me what it is?" he asked, snidely, bending down so that his face was close to hers and his eyes were all that filled her vision.

It was then that Lizzie felt a clear moment of understanding dawn, experiencing an epiphany. "Her soul - that piece of it - isn't here," she whispered as true fear gripped her heart, as she put words to her sister's plight. "It is in the Immortal--I mean, it's in _your_world."

If he was surprised by her deduction he did not show it. "Yes. It is. And my world exerts a more powerful pull on souls than yours, and so what remains of her here is slowly drifting through the universe to connect with what has been taken."

"Given away," Lizzie corrected quietly, her eyes filling with tears. "She gave her soul away." She actually dared to reach towards the King, though she did not touch him. Her hand hovered above his arm, feeling power roll from him like static electricity building before a shock. "Is there no hope for her? Is there nothing we can do?" she asked in a whisper.

"Nothing we can do here," Jareth said. "You or I." He stepped away from her, looking uncomfortably at her raised hand. "But there are ways, in my plane of existence, to help her. It will take time and it will take your complete attention. If you wish to help her, you must agree to come with me and do as I say. Do you understand?"

Lizzie rubbed a hand across her eyes, breaking sight with him and wiping away the tears. She turned and looked down at Laura. "Is there time?" Some little part of her was arguing that this was a dream, that Jareth the Goblin King wasn't real, that there was no such thing as other realms or immortality, and that her sister's soul was not seeping from her body. But that part, the sensible and realistic part, could do nothing for her sister. The part of her that believed in Jareth, a piece of her heart that still believe in happily ever after and fairy tales, could accept that this magical man might have the answers Laura needed.

"In my realm," he said, "our hours are your seconds. Here you see her wasting quickly away. There you will be able to do more and it will be as though time was suspended here."

"Einstein's theory of relativity," she muttered to herself and sighed, defeated in her battle with logic. "Okay. If I come with you, will you do a better job of explaining things?" She looked at him, over her shoulder, to see he now held a second crystal glowing with the first.

"Mortals and their need for explanation," he muttered darkly, swirling the crystals together in his palm. "Things will be clearer to you there, mortal."

"Lizzie," she told him, tilting her chin up. "My name is Lizzie. And I'll come with you."

He smiled again, showing his pointed teeth and even the tiniest look of relief in his eyes. "Good."

And they two vanished, though Jareth's voice drifted back, "Stay, Nuffler. Guard the girl."

The little goblin shuddered from his place under the hospital bed and did not move.

_

Author's Note: I know I've got readers out there somewhere.... So what does it take to get a review out of y'all? :-) I'm about to run out of chapters to edit....


	4. Beginning to Listen and Look

**You Cannot Trust Goblin Men**

-

_Chapter Four: Beginning to Listen and Look_

_

_Then Lizzie weighed no more_

_Better and worse,_

_But put a silver penny in her purse,_

_Kissed Laura, crossed the heath with clumps of furze_

_At twilight, halted by the brook,_

_And for the first time in her life_

_Began to listen and look._

Lizzie closed her eyes, counted to ten, and opened them again. It was to no use; the scene remained unchanged. She stood in a large circular room, next to a wide window that looked out over an immense maze of crumbling walls and ivy. The landscape was unbelievable and the sky was a strange, glowing shade of orange. To her left, in the center of the room, was a large crystal orb suspended in mid air - suspended _by_ the air. Jareth, the Goblin King, stood staring in to it, glowering. Occasionally he muttered something to himself and the crystal would flash.

She had no idea what they were doing here. One moment, they were in the hospital room, the next they were here, in this… tower?

As if he heard her unspoken thought, Jareth said in a voice loud enough to carry to her, "This is my observatory. From here I can view any part of and any person in my domain. This crystal, though it looks impressive, is merely a looking glass. I can even see that which is Hidden, so long as it is within my lands, with this." He tapped the crystal with a gloved finger. "It does not appear that your sister's soul travels here, which I expected, but the trail of her soul does rest somewhere in the eastern half." He muttered a strange word she did not understand to himself and then turned to her.

"Very well. Your first task, mortal, is in the eastern wood. Because you are within my lands you will have my protection, but should you ever step outside my boundaries I cannot promise you safety. I fear it may come to that." He said the last as if it were an irritation rather than a worry. "Our law states that for me to become involved in this affair, assisting a mortal in the Underground, that you must accuse the guilty party in my presence."

"I must?" she asked, not comprehending. "If he's one of your subjects why do you need me at all? What am I doing here?" Her students would have described her mental situation thus: Her mind had been blown.

Jareth sighed and reached up to rub the space between his eyebrows. He explained, very slowly and as if it caused him great annoyance, "Because as of yet I cannot accuse any of those Goblin men of anything at all. They have done no damage to me or to my kingdom. There are _laws_ even a king must abide. But you have a claim of blood, as what has been done is hurting your sister. If you accuse one of her malefactors in front of me then I can charge him and perhaps gain his confession. If he will confess to a greater plan than harming a mortal, then I can take action. Otherwise, what he has done to your sister is nothing more than a harmless amusement among our kind."

Lizzie processed this with a slow nod and shoved her hands into her jean pockets. It angered her to know that what Laura was going through was considered "harmless" by the king before her and the land around her. How was losing a soul _harmless_? But Jareth was helping, even if she did not fully understand why. She swallowed her temper for now. "Okay. I think I understand. Let's go."

"You show an alarming amount of bravery for someone whose life is but a thin thread," he said with a raised brow. Nevertheless, he raised his hand and again the world dematerialized around them only to reappear in a new shape.

Now Lizzie stood amongst trees and upon a dirt path with the Goblin King right beside her. Instead of a crystal ball, he now held a cane with a crystal head. It was a lot like canes Lizzie had seen in movies with Victorian gentlemen twirling them about, or suddenly pulling short swords from the wood encasement. He also seemed to be wearing different clothing, though the woman could not guess how that change happened in so short a space of time. She blinked up at him a moment longer and his eyes met hers.

Jareth lifted one eyebrow. "Well?" All the arrogance and disdain he managed to put in to one word was astonishing.

She could not be sure whether he wanted to know why she was staring or what, so she only shrugged and looked up the path. A wide gate grown over with purple ivy stood before them. Beyond the gate she could see a very large house, one that she would call a mansion in her own world. Perhaps such terms applied here as well. Lizzie looked down at her clothing, consisting of clean tennis shoes, tan slacks, and a gray polo. She put her hand up to make sure her hair was still pulled back in a tight bun and her glasses were secure on the bridge of her nose. "Okay." She looked up at Jareth again and smiled weakly. "Guess I'm ready."

"Quite." He raised his cane and gestured to the gate, which opened. "I would prefer just to enter his chambers directly, but there are some rules even a king must obey. Such as not popping in to another person's home unasked. But through the front gate." He shrugged and stepped forward; Lizzie followed and wondered why he felt compelled to explain anything to her after showing such disdain for explanations before. It occurred to her that he might simply be talking to himself and did not care if she heard or not.

They walked up a brick drive, surrounded on both sides by beautiful trees with purple leaves and birds singing from branches, and up the impressive marble stairs to the door. There were two large doors of rich, dark wood and on one of them was a very large silver knocker. The knocker had the face of a bull, the ears of a dog, and a lion's mane. It was a very odd looking creature, completed by the gold ring through its nose that would be used for knocking. Without hesitation, Lizzie reached up to take hold of the ring.

And she received the fright of her life when the knocker _snarled_ at her. "Doncha dare!" it said, sounding vaguely Celtic. "I'm no doorknob meant to do your bidding. State your name and business here!" The mouth of the knocker certainly moved and the speech had indeed come from it.

After her heart rate slowed, Lizzie squared her shoulders and tipped her chin up. Gawking at a door knocker was not exactly going to make a good first impression on whoever was inside, and she could already feel Jareth's disdain, or was it amusement? "I am Elizabeth Rossetti from...from the Lands Above. I am here to speak to your master and I bring with me the Goblin King to witness our...er...discussion."

"Oh, well now," the knocker said with lifted eyebrows. "You will be announced. Enter Majesty and Mistress." He chuckled and the door suddenly swung inward. Lizzie looked from the doorway to the King, whose expression remained bored. She took a step through the door and her tennis shoe squeaked once upon the black marble stone of the floor. She winced but continued forward, stepping lighter so as to keep from making the dreadful sound over again. She felt as she imagined her students sometimes did when she called them to her desk in preparation for a "serious talk."

The entry hall she now stood within was long, with a winding staircase in the center disappearing into the ceiling above. It hardly looked as she expected it to; despite the black floors the hall was brightly lit with crystal chandeliers and tall windows at the far end let in the daylight. Lizzie stared at the mirrors and paintings on the walls, noticing at once that there were no other doors than the one they had entered. It was very strange - like stepping in to a ballroom instead of a whole house.

"Greetings to His Majesty the King," a deep, rough voice said from above their heads. "And to the Mortal Elizabeth - though I believe you were introduced originally as Lizzie." Through the ceiling and onto the stair appeared a man dressed in dark blues, a silver earring in one ear, and his black hair long and spiked in a manner even more extreme than Jareth's. He came down slowly, his black eyes on them with every step. "To what do I owe this great honor?"

Jareth actually stood straighter and held his chin up, his eyes flashing dangerously, and Lizzie remembered her first impression of him - an impression of immense power. "Lord Korvis," Jareth intoned formally, tipping his head slightly and tucking his cane under his arm. "This mortal has asked for t his audience. I am merely here to bear witness."

"Ah, I see." Korvis came off the final stair and strode easily towards them. "All the laws are to be followed. How nice. I am afraid that will make this meeting no less disagreeable, but what can one do?" He shrugged and smiled easily at the King and the woman. "Very well. I am here. I have ears. Speak, Lizzie." He folded his arms and looked at her imperiously, though she found he was not near so intimidating as the King at her side.

_'This is one of the men who hurt Laura,'_ she reminded herself. _'And he may know how to help her.'_ For as of yet Jareth had not indicated that he as king had power to do anything for her sister without the cooperation of these Goblins. "I have come to accuse you of doing a great harm to my sister. Laura is in our world and she is...is slipping away. I know now that you have taken a piece of her soul and you intend to have it all. She will die, because you and your friends came in to our world and harmed her, purposely." Lizzie felt her confidence growing with her anger and indignation so that she was nearly shouting at him as she continued. "You tricked her into giving you a lock of her hair - she had no idea of the consequences. In return you gave her a piece of fruit that now she craves with her whole being. And it's killing her!" She clenched her fists and stepped towards the man as she verbally attacked. "And I want you to tell me why!"

Jareth actually reached a hand out and placed it upon her arm and though his touch was light it was enough to restrain her from speech or movement. His hand on her arm sent a current through her, a taste of his power, and it overwhelmed her into silence. She bit her lip and stepped back, though she still glared at the other man.

"There now," Jareth said dispassionately. "You have heard her words and I have witnessed them. What have you to say, Korvis?"

Korvis looked at the mortal woman seething with anger and considered his words for a moment. "I say that they are all true. I went Above, with others, and tricked a mortal girl in to giving up a lock of her hair. It was even I who took it from her."

Lizzie's eyes lit up hopefully and she looked at the King, trusting that this would be enough for her to gain help for her sister.

"But," Korvis continued, breaking through her moment of elation, "I did not keep the lock for myself, nor do I know what it is intended for." He looked down at the floor, at the tips of his polished boots. "I fear what I took to be an evening of folly and a game of little harm—"

"_Little_-?" Lizzie gasped and was silenced by another touch from the King.

He continued, looking at her curiously. "_Little harm_. After all, Mortals are always dying, sooner or later." He shrugged as though this did not matter. "But the orchestrator of that night seems to have greater plans for the Mortal girl's soul. He seems to wish to use it, though I do not know for what. I fear, Your Majesty, that I may be party to a traitorous plot against the Council of Kings." He actually smiled as he looked up at Jareth. "And it is my cousin, Calais, who holds the girl's hair and all the answers."

Jareth took this all in quite calmly, though the bored look was gone and replaced with a look of thoughtful scrutiny. "You have spoken the truth, Korvis. And where is Calais now that he may answer for his deed of treachery and return the girl's token?"

"In his father's realm," Korvis answered with a measure of apology. "Where your power can not touch him and where his other king holds dominion."

Lizzie had absolutely no idea what this meant. She looked from Korvis to Jareth and back again. "I don't understand. What's going on? Why can't we go get this Calais person? I thought you were his king. Surely you can order--?"

"I cannot," Jareth admitted evenly. "Calais is only half Goblin and when he is in the land of his father I have no power over him. The King there, a Daemon, holds power as great as mine and we have long been enemies."

"The law dictates that one ruler cannot cross the boundaries of another without diminishing in power," Korvis added, winking at her. "It keeps them from invading one another. It keeps the Underground Powers balanced."

"But with a half-Goblin, half-Daemon who has taken possession of a mortal soul, there are no true boundaries," Jareth finished for him, eyeing Korvis with thinly veiled irritation. "Very well. Your information is useful though it makes the whole situation more problematic. Tell me Korvis, is there anything else you know of what your cousin plans?"

The dark Goblin raised his hand, where a blue-black feather rested, and he twirled it once around so that it instead became a book. "He tore a page from this book, after searching through many others. I cannot read the words within, but I fear they are Words of Power." He held the book out to Jareth. "It will serve you more than it will serve me."

Jareth took the book and twisted his wrist so that it vanished. "Then all I am able to accuse you of at this time is being a party to a potentially harmful plot. Until I know further what Calais plans I can do nothing but keep you bound where I might find you again."

Korvis nodded his understanding and would have spoken if Lizzie had not burst out, "But my sister! My sister is dying and it's _his_ _fault_!" She was far out of her element. She did not know how these two could talk so slowly, so formally about laws and plots and traitors, while her twin was slipping away from her.

The Goblin King sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose in irritation. "I am afraid that such a crime is not so heinous in our world, my dear. Nevertheless, to appease you, for now I will make sure Korvis's punishment fits his crime. Korvis, I am binding you to the mortal Laura, who you took the token from. You are to remain with her unconscious mind until she awakens or dies. You are to assist in keeping her alive by your influence over her soul. In this way you may redeem yourself from a harsher punishment." Jareth made a crystal appear and then he held it out to Korvis. "Frankly, it is better than the oubliette I had planned for you."

Korvis smiled tightly and bowed to the King, then to Lizzie. "I am sorry to cause you pain, Lizzie. I am afraid I understand such a concept very little. You mortals are such fragile creatures." He reached towards the crystal. "Good luck with Calais." As he touched the glass he vanished, disappearing in glitter and violet smoke.

Jareth shook his head, frowning darkly. "We shall have to rethink our approach and I will need to study the book. We go back to the castle for now and you will rest."

"Rest? How can I rest when -" He interrupted her. Again.

"You are hysterical, my dear, and of no use to me or to your sister if you cannot think straight."

Lizzie snapped her jaw shut and said no more. She closed her eyes and sighed as she felt the slight wind that meant she was disappearing and reappearing elsewhere. It was no use, she realized, to argue with a Goblin King. Especially one as superior and arrogant as Jareth seemed to be.

____

_In Between Worlds_

She looked around herself with some disgust and a lot of uncertainty. The plane on which she stood was blank, without color. It was not white or black or gray, it was just completely blank. She raised her hands to make certain they were still in existence and she was very pleased to find all her fingers in place...though she was in need of a manicure. With further inspection she found that she was wearing her favorite pair of old blue jeans and a gray tank top. "At least I exist," she murmured out loud, "even if the rest of the world has vanished. It's like...it's like _Neverending Story_ and the Nothing." She spoke out loud to fill the void with something, even if it was only her voice.

"Oh," she murmured after turning on her heel again, still seeing nothing. "Where has everything gone?"

"Away," another voice, a deeper voice, answered from nowhere. "Or rather, you have gone away to where there is nothing."

She turned again, slowly. "What? Hello?" It was both relieving and unnerving to hear another sound within the blankness.

"I cannot come in unless you ask it of me, unless you name me."

This was not as clear as she wanted it to be. "Name you? Who are you? How do I know I want you here?" Despite her sister accusing her of being completely thoughtless, she was much cleverer than given credit for.

"I am," the somewhat raspy voice said, "formerly your enemy, but I have now come to aid you in your current predicament. I am Korvis."

"I don't know any Korvis," she retorted, looking around herself again. "But looking at anyone would be better than looking at nothing. All right, I'm inviting you in to whatever this place is."

"And you name me...?"

"Your own name, of course. Korvis. Come in."

And she turned again to find him, standing in clothing that looked as though it was both modern and ancient, looking at her with eyes that were familiar. Suddenly, as he stood there in the blankness with her, she knew. "Kory!" She took a step back. "You-you were the one who gave me the fruit!" Her voice died away and she closed her eyes for a moment. "The fruit... I wanted it so badly. Now...now it doesn't matter." She opened her eyes slowly and looked at him again. "Am I cured?"

He shook his head, regarding her with interest. "No. Physically, you still yearn for it. Nothing will appease you except a taste of that fruit. But you are not in the physical world here. You are in your own mind, where you have decided you are safest. Here your conscious has retreated here we both will stay until you are saved or damned."

Laura looked at him with no comprehension. "Am I in a coma?"

"Of a kind."

"And who is going to save me?" she asked.

"Your sister."

Her eyes grew large. "Lizzie? What is _she_ going to do?" Laura knew her sister better than anyone living and therefore knew that Lizzie was far too practical a person to become involved in...in whatever she would need to do to _save_ Laura. The man before her was evidence enough that something very strange was going on, and Lizzie did not do well with "strange."

Instead of answering her directly, Korvis looked around at the blank matter and waved a hand to indicate the space around them. "Is this really the best your subconscious can come up with? You could at least give us some place to sit, or a room with walls. This anti-space is hardly conducive to a real conversation."

"What? What's that supposed to mean? The best _I_ can come up with?" She looked around. "I just appeared here."

"Yes, well, 'here' is a part of your mind. An unused portion, it looks like. Mortals rarely use more than a small fraction of their brains, so I'm not surprised."

"What would you like me to do? Wave a magic wand and produce a tea party?" she retorted angrily. "And I don't like the way you're talking to me - like you're so superior. If you'll remember, it's your fault that we're both here in the first place. I hate being talked down to. Everyone treats me like I'm an idiot." She turned her back on him and strode away angrily, in to the blankness. As a stylist working for the elite, she was often talked down to and treated poorly by her clients. Many assumed that she cut hair and gave manicures because she wasn't good at anything else or hadn't the brains to get a "real" job. The ironic thing was that it was Laura, not school-teacher Lizzie, who had been the top of her class. It was Laura who had won a full scholarship to the most exclusive college in the state. It was Laura who looked at all the schoolwork ahead of her, all the opportunities her brain could offer her, and simply shrugged it off.

Laura was a beautician, a stylist, because it was what she wanted to be. It was what she enjoyed. She loved playing with the chemicals to produce color, curls, and all else. She enjoyed making people look as they most wanted to look. It was _fun_.

As all this went through her thoughts, she continued to walk through this unused space in her mind, away from the only person she could see or interact with. She kept her eyes open and felt miserable that there was nothing to see. "If only I had a rock," she muttered. "I'd kick it."

And suddenly, a rock appeared a few steps in front of her. Accordingly, she gave it a good hard kick and was satisfied to see it fly several feet before landing within the nothing. Laura laughed, trying to shake off some of her tension. "That's what he meant." She looked over her shoulder to see Korvis, now nothing more than a speck in the nothingness. "Okay then. Let's give him what he asked for." She grinned and felt the itch to make someone else feel as poorly as she did about her situation. "Rain. On him." She concentrated on that thought with glee and was very pleased to see dark clouds growing and a very loud crack of thunder told her she had done a good job of it. After giving herself a lawn chair to sit in and a little tent over her particular spot, Laura began to create her temporary little world. A world she would make a living nightmare for her guest.

At least she could entertain herself this way.

-

Lizzie awoke with a gasp and sat up, looking around her with some uneasiness. She threw her legs over the bed and went across the room to the curtained windows. Upon looking out, she relaxed. '_It was only a dream',_ she told herself of the storm. All she could remember from the dream was great big clouds smashing with thunder, but it had been enough to startle her awake.

Unfortunately, upon looking out the window she was forced further out of her dream and in to complete reality. If the Underground Labyrinth could be called reality, anyway. She looked out over the massive stone walls, trying to follow a single path with her eyes, but found that her sight was quickly confused. Lizzie sighed and turned, rubbing her forehead and looking around the bedroom. A creepy little female goblin had shown her this place and left after slamming the door very aggressively. While she had not thought sleep would be possible in her circumstances, Lizzie had passed out as soon as she hit the pillow.

Now she looked down at herself and winced at her wrinkled and dirty clothes. She already felt enough like a peasant when standing next to the King, but her clothes just made her feel all the shabbier. Especially since he had a change of wardrobe nearly every time she blinked.

"I've never met a man so obsessed with clothes," she muttered. Lizzie went towards the door, planning to find Jareth, when something caught her eye. A very tall, very ornate wardrobe stood against a wall in the room. Having seen enough fairy-tale movies as a child, and read enough books, Lizzie was willing to bet the wardrobe would have something special in it. "Maybe not Narnia," she said out loud to give herself some courage, "but a clean shirt would be great."

Her hand was on the handle before she could talk herself out of it and she flung the door open, holding her breath. Before her hung gowns - nothing fancy, nothing frilly - but very simple looking gowns. They looked like something out of an old King Arthur movie. The gowns were long, but when she held one to her shoulders she found the hem did not drag. They all had belts, too, that looked as though they were for more than just pretty decoration.

Finding these a pleasing compromise between what she was wearing and what she had hoped to find, Lizzie quickly slipped in to a dark blue dress. The modern clothing that stayed were her jeans, under the dress. She even traded her little white tennis shoes, already cracked and dirty, for a pair of sturdy looking boots. She let her hair down and pulled it up again in to a tight pony tail and then left the room, feeling more confident than before. A rest had done her good - she only hoped the time taken away from her quest had not harmed her sister's chances.

It took some time, and confusing directions from faces carved in the castle walls, for her to find Jareth again. He was perched upon shelves in a library when she found him, sitting at the top with his legs hanging off. The ancient black volume Korvis had given him sat in his lap and he held two smaller books in each hand. He was scrutinizing them closely and, Lizzie noted, was wearing another change of clothes. He looked his most conservative yet in a pair of tan tights and a dark green shirt with a black vest. He looked a lot like Robin Hood would if crossed with an eighties rock star.

"Good," he said without looking down at her, "you are awake." He closed the books in his hand and stacked them on top of the larger volume. Then, to Lizzie's surprise, he leapt from the top of the tall bookcase and landed like a cat upon the ground. "I have good news for you and bad news for you."

"I have a feeling the bad news will be worse than the good news is better," Lizzie said darkly, crossing her arms and fixing him with a serious frown. "What is it?"

"The good news," Jareth said with a wicked smile, "is that I have discovered what Calais is up to, using Words of Power and a mortal soul. The bad news is that if he succeeds, your sister will die and many prominent Immortals within our world will lose their power and their thrones."

"That sounds very..." Lizzie struggled to find the right word.

"Bad. Quite." Jareth put the books upon a table and stared down at them for a few moments. "But Calais is playing with things more powerful than even I comprehend." Lizzie had the feeling this was a big admission coming from the Goblin King. "It will take him time to work everything out to his liking. That gives us a chance to stop him."

"Us?" Lizzie echoed. "What exactly do you mean?"

Jareth rolled his eyes dramatically as he turned again to face her. "I mean, my dear little girl, that you and I are in for what many would deem a fool's errand."

"You're the one with magical powers," she argued, tossing her head back. "What am I supposed to do? You say this guy - Calais - is messing with things more powerful than even you understand. I'm halfway convinced that I'm not sane anymore. I've no idea what you expect me to do."

"Your stake in this," Jareth explained, "is greater and more personal than mine. You stand to lose your sister, someone who shares your blood. I stand to lose a kingdom, which even your world's history shows happens very frequently. It is nothing personal when a king loses power. It is very personal when a sister loses a sister. Having you along may give us an advantage."

"I don't understand how. I love my sister, but -"

Jareth cut her off. "Exactly. You love her. I am the Goblin King, and I love my power. But there is a difference between love for a person and love for ambition. Things like that count here in the Underground." He reached up to massage his left temple and closed his eyes. "Let me tell you one of the principle occupations I have as Goblin King. One of the rules that governs my world is that we must have interaction with mortals, and quite often, to keep our magic from growing stagnant. Each race within the Underground has their own methods. My method was handed down to me when I inherited my throne."

He stepped away from the table and went to a window looking out over the Labyrinth, speaking slowly and distinctly as he moved. "I take unwanted children from your world, mortal children up to the age of thirteen. They are children who are left behind or lost, children that your kind purposely want to get rid of. Most of the time, the children come here and become creatures of my realm - goblins, fairies, dwarves, whatever nature is most innate in them. But sometimes a child is given to me by mistake. One such case was about twenty years ago, your time."

He sat on the windowsill and gestured out to the Labyrinth. "I brought the little boy here when his sister quite vehemently said she hated him and wished he would be taken away. No sooner did she realize what she had done then she began to beg for her brother's return. She was desperate and I felt she was worried of what would happen to her when the child was discovered missing. I could not simply return the babe once he was within my realm. The girl had to pass a test to retrieve him. By passing the test she would prove her worthiness for his return, and the emotional effort required of her would stir the veins of magic running through my labyrinth."

Lizzie listened, horrified and fascinated by the tale. "Did she go through with the test?"

Jareth waited a few moments before answering. "Yes. Her love for her brother turned out to be very real. She stimulated the magic all around her and even some of my subjects became enamored of her and stronger for all that. I antagonized her through the whole test, which was to defeat the Labyrinth. I became a villain, a creature of darkness, and by doing so I made her quest _more_ powerful. By the time she finished, her love for her brother had grown and my powers had been made more… wholesome. Even at the end, when I offered her everything her young heart desired, she chose her brother.

"Others have tried to come for children I have taken. Most fail. They think they love the child, but come to find they love themselves more. People like that never leave my land with what they came for, if they leave at all." He turned his mismatched, level gaze to her. "So you see, my dear, your love for your sister and your frail mortality could very well be the only thing that saves us all."

Subdued by his tale, she turned away from him and focused on her own thoughts and feelings. Could she do this? Not for herself. She, Lizzie Rossetti, did not even believe in magic until the moment she met the King. But for Laura, her twin sister, her other half, she would do it. She would do anything to save Laura, including risk her own life. Her head lifted and she squared her shoulders. "All right, Your Majesty." She looked over her shoulder at him and smiled. "What is it we need to do?"

He rose and crossed to her, looking down in to her deep gray eyes, searching her to reassure himself her heart was true. He nodded to himself and began to smile. "We walk in to the land of demons and walk back out again with our souls intact."

-

Lizzie sat on a large boulder, watching as Jareth murmured words in a strange tongue and stared in to a crystal ball. He had transported them, magically, to the edge of his kingdom. He left a trusted aide in charge to cover for his absence, should anyone notice, and to alert him should something go wrong back in his lands. He was now doing all he could to cloak them in his power, for once they crossed his boarder his abilities would be limited.

Jareth now wore all black, including a hooded cloak, with a sword at his hip and a pack upon his royal back. The black covered book was in the pack, along with basic supplies. Lizzie was dressed also in all black, but with her jeans still under her dress. She had not been given a weapon as she could use none.

Finally Jareth stopped his softly spoken words and he turned towards her, still grasping the crystal. "This will be your protection," he told her, holding it out.

Lizzie jumped down from the boulder and came to him, taking the crystal ball with curiosity. Almost as soon as she touched it, the crystal popped like a bubble and made her gasp. "Did I break it?" she asked, alarmed.

The King took her hand and turned it, showing her the ring now upon her right index finger. It was black except for a tiny white crystal ball, the size and shape of a small opal. "No, my dear, it is merely traveling size." He took her hand in both of his, the soft leather of his gloves warm, and said three more short words, words with curling R's and soft S's. "This will protect you from dark magic and, should things go wrong, you can use this ring to escape back to my kingdom. You need merely say aloud, 'Return me to the Labyrinth.'" He dropped her hand and looked in to the trees before them.

Lizzie looked at the ring and then up at him with mild alarm. "If things go wrong," she whispered, "what does it matter if I escape?"

"Maybe it does not matter." He glanced down at her, for the first time the look on his face was truly serious, "But I am not one to take chances. That is why I come with you. I trust this mission with no one but myself." He flipped his hood up. "Keep your face covered at all times. I can pass as Daemon if need be, but you look far too innocent. And the spectacles do not help."

She sighed and put up her hood, then followed him in to the trees. Quietly, while behind him, she reached up and took her glasses off. She did not really need them anyway. She dropped them in a pocket of her skirt and kept her head lowered as they left the Goblin Kingdom behind.

-

AN:

Thank you to my reviewers!

Whowantstoknow: I appreciate the compliment. :-) Quite honestly, I've always thought it was a little pervy to match up a 15 year old girl with an "old" Goblin King. It's hard to find Labyrinth stories wherein that is done successfully.

MystikMagick: Thanks!

: We both need to know how it ends, apparently. :-)

Callandra: One of the eight is to be heavily featured, as you can tell from this chapter.

Thank you for reading!


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